


Calling to the Afterlife

by coldskin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror, Auror Harry Potter, Curses, M/M, Mystery, POC Harry Potter, Potioneer Draco Malfoy, mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15983927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldskin/pseuds/coldskin
Summary: Harry knew it was too easy. Find the witch or wizard who's killing Muggle's and bring him in. It was too easy.Now he's stuck somewhere between life and death, teetering towards death, and no way to contact his friends.And if that's not bad enough, he's stuck with the one person he wishes he would never see again:Draco Malfoy.





	Calling to the Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!
> 
> it's been so long! 
> 
> i hope you like this!
> 
> the characters do not belong to me, property of JK Rowling
> 
> kudos and comments are much appreciated!!!!

The sun crept over the chipped walls of Grimmauld Place, it’s aureate fingers inching towards the unreachable coffered ceiling. There was a moments stillness, as if the entirety of the world held its breath before exhaling again, emitting all life with it.

 _Wake up_ , the light seemed to say, reaching over to grasp at the bed covers.

Harry furrowed his brows, throwing an arm over his eyes as if that action in itself would ward off the glaring sun.

But the light was insistent and patient.

It edged up the bed, enveloping the entire frame in blazing warmth.

Harry groaned and turned onto his stomach, pulling his duvet over his face in a last attempt. But the light still shone through and Harry was forced to admit defeat.

He throws the cover off him, sighing loudly, staring up at the blurry ceiling.

For a moment he just lies there, counting his breaths and watching the sun continue to pour through the window.

And then, he sits up, rubbing his eyes with one hand and fumbling around the nightstand with the other. He finds his glasses and slips them on.

The world forms clearly around him and it's that instant that he realizes he’s not alone.

Kreacher stands at the very edge of the bedroom door, his pointed nose and fingers the only visible part of him.

“Kreacher,” Harry asks, voice groggy, “What are you doing there?”

Kreacher shifts, moving a little more from view. “Master was having another nightmare. Kreacher tried to wake Master but Master would not awaken. Master was screaming in his sleep. Kreacher tried to help but Master has pushed him away.” Kreacher finishes with a small twitch of his fingers.

“Oh.” Harry doesn’t know what to say. “Sorry, Kreacher.”

“Master is not at fault--”

“I said not to call me that--”

“But Master has pushed me away! Kreacher cannot enter! Kreacher has tried but wizard magic forbids me!”

To prove his point, Kreacher lifts his pointed hand and presses it against an invisible barrier against the doorway. Harry stares at the door, then down at his hands.

“I’m sorry, Kreacher. You can come in.” As if on cue, Kreacher falls through the doorway, tumbling onto his nose. He stands up, dusting off his pillowcase and pats Regulus’ locket against his chest.

Harry slides out of bed, stretching his arms over his head, running a hand through his hair, thinking back to the dream. It’s already fading, wisps of shadowed figures and green lights. He doesn’t know if it’s better to remember them or not.

Kreacher runs back to the doorway, picking up a tray off the floor and trotting back inside. He sets the tray on the nightstand, the scent of tea wafting through the room.

“Master’s tea is getting cold,” Kreacher says before making his way to the bed.

He takes a hold of the sheets and tries to set the bed but Harry tugs them away from him.

“I got this, it’s okay.” Harry sets to tucking the sheets under the bed, feeling a solemn contentment at doing something so mundane.

Kreacher stares at him for a moment, obviously distraught at having to choose between obeying and watching others work.

“Master wishes to fix the bed the Muggle way. Kreacher doesn’t understand,” The house-elf mutters to himself walking around the room and picking up stray clothes.

Harry rolls his eyes but continues to work, grabbing a scone from the tray and holding it with his mouth. He gets crumbs on his bed but he doesn’t mind, instead focusing on the rest of his day.

Harry grabs his wand and casts a quick tempus.

He has an hour until work.

An hour to make himself as presentable as he can be.

After a moment of admiring his work on his bed, he makes his way to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror.

He stares back at his reflection, the dark circles under his eyes, his skin pulled taut against his cheekbones. He runs a hand through his hair again before resting his palms against the edge of the sink.

He tries to smile but it looks wrong so he lets his lips fall back into place.

“ _Smile, dear_!” The mirror says but Harry ignores it, stripping off his clothes and turning on the shower.

****

Harry is late to work.

Kinney from the Improper Use of Magic office stops him as he reaches his cubicle.

“Mr Potter,” He starts but stops, blushing.

Kinney has always been a bit shy. Around him at least.

“G’morning, Kinney,” Harry says setting his bag down on his desk.

“Mr Potter,” he says again, “They need you up in Shacklebolt’s.”

“Okay, thanks.” He gives him a tight-lipped smile and Kinney squeaks before scurrying off.

“A bit mousey, that one.”

Harry turns to find the familiar red hair. He smiles, shaking his head.

“It’s the whole Chosen One thing. You’d think they’d all forget by now,” Ron continues, sitting in Harry’s seat and rummaging through his bag. He finds a granola bar from who-knows-when and pockets it with gusto.

Harry just shrugs, slipping out of his cloak and hanging it on his chair.

“So, what do you think Shacklebolt wants?”

“Maybe he wants to know why a certain Auror always seems to steal from his so-called friends,” Harry says, staring pointedly at Ron, who holds his hands up in surrender.

Harry chuckles, rolling his eyes. He grabs some files from his bag before turning.

“Don’t eat my lunch, yeah?” He hears Ron’s dubious _I would never!_ before heading towards Kingsley’s office.

He stops by the filing room, handing his files to the old wizard who recognizes him and his eyes widen in surprise.

“Harry Potter! In my filing room!” Harry smiles at him, the same as he does every morning.

“Morning, Mr Pickett.” The old wizard gasps.

“Harry Potter knows my name!” He says to no one. Harry continues smiling, handing him the files. 

"You saw me yesterday," Harry says as he does every morning. 

"Nonsense!" The wizard exclaims, "I would know if Harry Potter came into  _my_ filing room!" 

"Well," Harry sighs, "Have a good day, Mr Pickett." 

He gives one last smile at the old man who gives him a toothy smile back before turning and leaving. 

"Have a blessed day, Mr Harry Potter!" 

He waves behind him before making his way to Kingsley's office. Paper planes fly over his head as he walks, one nearly poking his eye out. He greets everyone he passes, scaring a new Auror in training, making her accidentally setting off a Jelly-Leg Jinx and hitting her instructor. Harry continues on quickly, scratching his neck awkwardly. 

When he finally reaches Kingsley's office, he takes a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob.  

He opens the door and steps inside. “Mr Potter,” Kingsley says from behind his desk, “Close the door behind you, please.”

Harry does and steps towards the armchairs only to realize they’re not alone.

Draco Malfoy sits in one arm chair, making a point to _not_ look at Harry.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> sorry was really short, it's just a prologue. the chapters will be much longer. 
> 
> the next chapter will be up soon! 
> 
> kudos and comments are very appreciated.


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